


Rough Landing

by whorl



Series: StormPilot Suite [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Stormpilot - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorl/pseuds/whorl
Summary: Just how did Poe get off Jakku? Mostly a character study of Poe, but there's a few meaningful thoughts about that dashing Stormtrooper who saved his life...Meant as a prequel work to the StormPilot Suite





	1. If only there was more light

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that has been bouncing around in my head since TFA came out, and has sat unfinished for FAR too long. I randomly heard that there was to be a comic released (tomorrow, on 4/18!) that explains how Poe escaped Jakku, so I decided to let this story run free for a few hours before getting classified as AU or becoming redundant (depending on what the comic story is!). Looking forward to seeing how the official canon compares with my headcanon :)
> 
> Like the StormPilot Suite that I wrote ~~last year~~ TWO years ago (yikes, time flies!), this work wasn't meant to be quite so long, but it's just too fun to play around in Poe's head, so the story expanded a bit further than I thought. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and enjoy! Please let me know if you notice any typos/issues. 
> 
> And for the usual disclaimer: Poe Dameron, Finn, Leia Organa, myriad other Star Wars characters, and small sections of dialogue from "The Force Awakens" that appear in this story are all the property of Disney/Lucasfilm. No copyright infringement intended. Please don't sue me, I have no money.

_Okay. It’s either very dark, or I’ve gone blind._

Poe tried to lift his right hand to rub at his eyes, but found he couldn’t lift his arm. It didn’t hurt, not that much anyway, but something was on top of—much of his right side, it seemed. The wind was blowing, cold and dry. _Where am I?_ He could use his left hand, and he swiped at his gritty eyes a little desperately, relieved when he began to resolve pinpoints of starlight far above him. _So, ‘very dark,’ then. The better option._

The pilot lay still for several minutes, trying to piece together his memories. His head was throbbing, and his whole body felt like he might have taken a pretty thorough beating. _Wonder who I pissed off this time?_ Gently, he used his free left hand to investigate what was pinning his right side down. Poe could feel a long, flat, heavy piece of metal about a meter wide that was resting solidly atop his right arm, extending past his reach. He could wiggle his right hand slightly, and felt the sand around it shift. He used his left hand to push with all his strength upwards on the flat piece of metal, and the weight on his trapped arm decreased slightly. After resting a moment, Poe tried again and found he could draw his arm a tiny fraction closer to freedom.

It probably took a quarter of an hour, but he was eventually able to pull himself free. Poe’s first instinct was to run, to find safe cover. He rolled himself quickly over onto his knees, but before he could stand, he was hit with a wave of nausea. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to breathe slowly, to quiet the bile rising in his throat. As his stomach settled, he rocked back onto his heels and sat for a moment, before very slowly rising to his feet. By now, a moon had begun to rise over the horizon, casting just enough light through the scattered clouds to define large objects in the barren landscape. Poe gingerly crouched back down to examine the piece of metal that had held him down. _Looks like it was part of a ship._ Poe ran his hands over the hull fragment, feeling the scorch marks of blaster fire and regularly spaced, welded bolts. With his fingertips, he could just make out a printed impression at the far edge. He was squinting at the area when the clouds shifted, and the moonlight shone directly on the debris. There was no mistaking the symbol deeply embossed in the metal, detailed in dull red paint. It had been part of a First Order ship. _A TIE fighter._

Suddenly, the previous week came flooding back. Poe gasped as his memories flashed, staccato, disordered, jagged and fragmented. General Organa’s mission. The stealthy flight to Jakku. Meeting with Tekka and watching—watching as he was slain. _Tekka._ Hiding the map. Willing BB-8 to flee, to hide anywhere that might be safe. Capture. Torture. Kylo Ren—in his mind, searching. Taking. _Get out!_ Pain. Fear. Humiliation. Failure. And after all that, stealing a TIE fighter. Rescued by a Stormtrooper, FN-something? Finn. _Finn!_

“Finn!” Poe’s voice was hoarse, weak. Between ragged breaths, he called out to Finn again and again, but the desert was silent.

Poe stopped shouting and took a deep breath, forcing himself to stop and think. _What do I do?_ Finn could be anywhere. _Or dead._ Poe looked back to where he’d awoken, beneath the sheared-off metal. _If only there was more light._ He could just make out the cords from the escape chute trailing off into the distance, one arm of the safety harness still entangled underneath the sheet of metal that had pinned him to the sand. He could hear the soft ruffling sound of the parachute fabric rippling in the wind. _I need to think._ Poe tried to recall the layout of the TIE fighter. It was a new model, two-person. They’d been sitting back to back. Wherever the center of mass had landed, the pilot and gunner were thrown in opposite directions. _Think, damn it!_ Suddenly, he turned, facing into the wind. He could just catch a scent, the barest hint of sweetness, almost a fermented smell, but with a chemical undertone. _Fuel._ He started walking into the wind.


	2. Thanks for all you did

As he picked his way carefully through the dunes, Poe tried to piece together a map of Jakku in his mind. He stayed as high as he could, walking the ridges and avoiding the valleys. He had been piloting back to Tuanul when the ship had been hit. Likely as not, they had landed in the sinking fields. Poe didn’t want to see if the name was accurate.

The smell of fuel grew steadily stronger as he walked. The clouds had passed, and the desert was bathed in cool moonlight. Poe shivered. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his jacket.

Suddenly, Poe stumbled upon the main crash site. There was no visible wreckage, but the crater was unmistakable. Poe heard a soft beeping sound, and eventually was able to locate the reporting module. _One of the marvels of Imperial technology._ In the early days of the Empire, before the Death Stars, the Empire had commanded fewer resources. Every ship was outfitted with a module that recorded the vessel’s flight statistics, crew information, and even the destruction pattern if the ship crashed. In the early years, the Empire would send recovery missions for personnel and for spacecraft—if not for rebuilding, at least for scrap.  These days, the First Order were reckless with their supplies. They only used the module's information for analysis of the Resistance's firepower and attack strategy—ship recovery was not considered a priority. Jakku was a wasteland of abandoned Imperial star destroyers full of reusable parts—that’s what kept the local scavengers in business.

Poe sat with the module in his lap and began mindlessly typing in old Imperial codes. _These boxes can take a direct hit from a torpedo, but canʼt figure out that a twenty year-old code might be suspicious?_ The eighth code worked, and information about the TIE fighter began rapidly scrolling in impossibly tiny text up the screen. Poe barely glanced at the flashing text reading “CRASH STATUS: FATAL.” Neither he nor Finn had connected themselves to the vital monitoring systems in the TIE fighter. He was more interested in the location of the bulk of the ship, or the trajectory of the second escape chute. Poe read, with some concern, that the majority of the ship had indeed landed where he had been standing, with the gunner seat being thrown several hundred meters further down the ridge. _If the ship crashed here...where is it?_ Poe scrolled further down the report and saw that the fuel cells had detonated shortly after the ship had crashed, but that had occurred fifty feet below him. _So these are the sinking fields after all._ There were stories of stranded ships, tenuously balancing on the surface of the sand as the survivors scrambled free, racing against the subtle shifting of the ground below them. Once the fields had swallowed a ship, the enormous pressure exerted by the sand would crush the structure, causing an explosion below the surface, further destabilizing the ground. Whole expeditions had been lost that way.

Poe turned sharply, alert to a new sound of tapping in the distance. Warily, he moved towards the sound and found a steelpecker gamely chipping away at a Stormtrooper helmet. _Finn’s._ He knelt, shooed the bird away, and gently picked up the helmet, cradling it in his lap as he looked into the empty eyes.

“Ah, buddy, I’m sorry.” Poe’s quiet words were swept away in the desert wind. He rested his forehead against cool plastoid and tried to picture the face of the man who had saved his life. “Thanks for all you did,” Poe whispered. “I wouldn’t have made it this far it if wasn’t for you.” He allowed himself a moment to recall their brief alliance, the moments of shared exhilaration as they made their escape, but Poe soon realized that he would have to keep moving.

He couldn’t bring himself to simply abandon the empty helmet to the scavengers. Poe scanned the featureless landscape, but there were no materials to build a makeshift cairn. Instead, he covered the helmet carefully with a smooth layer of sand, drawing a simple outline of the Great Tree as a marker. “May the force be with you, Finn,” he said, as he slowly stood and began walking away from the crash site.

Dawn was just beginning to break as Poe considered his options. Niima would be the sure bet to find a ship. But it was likely that he’d find more than a couple of Stormtroopers there as well. Instead, he decided to head to one of the smaller outposts, see if he could still find a working airfield without running the risk of a First Order presence. At least with the TIE fighter destroyed, the First Order might presume that he had died. That would be a blessing.

While he was walking, Poe couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering. _Who was that Stormtrooper, Finn? Why did he help me?_ He hung his head. Some pilot he’d been. _I can fly anything! Yeah, straight into a First Order missile._

Finn. _That wasn’t even his real name._ Poe cringed at the thought of his own arrogance. _What had he called himself? FN—21...something. Maybe that meant something to him. If nothing else, it was his identity. And because **I** thought it sounded wrong, I refused to call him by the name he gave me, and instead renamed him. Like a pet. _ Poe thought of BB-8. _I didn’t even question my **droid’s** name, but I couldn’t believe that FN-21...87! FN-2187 might be a name that he was comfortable with. _ Poe sighed. _Hardly matters now. He was FN-2187 to anyone that might have mattered to him. He was only ‘Finn’ to the cocky asshole who got him killed._

He willed himself to focus on walking. Left foot, right foot, repeat. Poe only made it a quarter of a mile before another thought startled him out of his measured pace. _Chewbacca!_ He halted, mind whirling. _Renaming Finn was bad enough, but who gave Chewbacca his name in Basic? Was it Han? It certainly wasn’t Chewie himself—“Chewbacca” sounds nothing like any word in Shyriiwook. I’ve been refusing to learn his real name for how many years now?_ Poe shook his head, resumed walking, and tried to force everything but survival from his mind. Yet as he continued his trek, he let himself picture Finn’s face, and to imagine how things would be different if they were walking side by side out of the desert…


	3. Not a bad trip

It was past midday when Poe reached a village. Barely a village, at that—nothing but a handful of low huts and groups of tents dotted here and there. But, like most settlements, there was a single shop selling general supplies at hugely inflated prices and a run-down airfield with an adjacent mechanic’s shop and junkyard. As he walked by, Poe appraised the ships sitting on the airfield—none were new, but several looked like they might survive another few flights. That was encouraging. But Poe’s first priority was finding water. He joined the line of people waiting to use the communal spigot, forcing himself to be patient, though his thirst gnawed at him.

Nobody paid much attention to him. It was not uncommon for strangers to make their way through the smaller outposts, buying or trading before moving on to the next spot. When it was finally his turn, Poe’s hands shook with fatigue as he opened the spigot just enough to let a trickle flow. He gulped the cool, sweet water gratefully, trying to pace himself. Having drunk his fill, Poe walked back towards the mechanic’s shop in search of the proprietor.

The shop itself was deserted, as was the junkyard, but Poe found a middle-aged Abednedo working on an old Imperial shuttle in the airfield. His command of Abednedish was pretty pitiful, and Poe kicked himself for not spending more time speaking with Ello Asty back on base. Rather than trying to fumble through with his limited vocabulary, Poe decided to try Basic. “Hey there. Is this your place?”

The Abednedo’s Basic was heavily accented, but easily understandable. “It depends on who is asking.”

“I’m looking for a ship.” Poe was intentionally vague. “Name’s Temmin.” He didn’t think Snap would mind if he used his name.

“Fine to meet you, Temmin. I am Venbar.” He gestured broadly around the airfield. “You need a ship? There are plenty to choose. Does it need to fly?” He laughed.

Poe joined in his laughter, still wary. “Yeah, it needs to fly. I need transport off-planet.”

“For what?”

“Just me.”

Venbar looked critically at Poe. “Hmmm.” He turned back to the shuttle and began prying off a badly damaged panel. “Where to? Off-world flights are not cheap.”

“Hosnian Prime.” Poe figured that would be the safest option. There was enough traffic to and from the capital that a single ship from Jakku shouldn’t draw too much attention. And once he was there, he could meet up with Sana. She could access Resistance funds to pay for his escape.

“Not a bad trip. How do you intend to pay?”

“I can pay with credits, though it’ll have to wait until we arrive. Or I can work off the balance. I’m a pilot—I’m pretty handy with ship repair.” Poe was hoping for the former. He wanted to get back to the Resistance base as soon as possible.

“I do not need a mechanic. And I do not trust credits I cannot hold in my hand. But I know a few of the wealthier citizens of this planet. They have been known to pay handsomely for service…of a somewhat different kind.” The Abednedo dragged his gaze the length of Poe’s body, finally meeting his eyes with a distinctly predatory look.

 _So that’s going to be the price._ Poe tried to keep his expression neutral. It didn’t matter. He needed to get off Jakku. This wasn’t the first time he’d been limited in his trading options. Poe shrugged and nodded mutely.

“Of course, I’ll need to inspect the—” Venbar critically assessed Poe’s disheveled frame. “—merchandise.” He furrowed his brows dubiously. “Before I set up any sort of deal.” Venbar grabbed him by the arm and began leading him towards a small hut at the far end of the airfield. “Come inside, we can negotiate the details of the transaction in here.”

Poe sighed and let himself be led into the darkened building.


	4. Credits after all

The air inside the hut was hot and stale. Poe stumbled as he was led inside and tried to catch himself, but Venbar roughly pushed him forward until he collided with a low table. Venbar was suddenly behind him, a hand on Poe’s back, pressing him firmly into the table. Poe didn’t fight as the Abednedo checked his wrists, his neck, his back for signs of an ownership tattoo. Venbar’s hands were crude but quick as he felt for concealed weapons. Satisfied that the human was unowned and unarmed, he backed up a fraction. Cautiously, Poe raised himself off the table. Standing, his head nearly touched the ceiling of the cramped building. Poe’s body tensed as he felt Venbar’s breath on his back through the thin material of his shirt.

“I suppose if I am to set up a trade of…services,” the Abenedo spoke slowly. “I must determine what sort of price your services command.”

Poe edged slightly away from Venbar, putting the corner of the table between them. He kept his voice disinterested as he spoke. “Sure you don’t want credits after all?”

“You could not afford it.”

As the Abednedo began to close the distance between them, Poe replied, “Give me a number.” At the very least, he could get a laugh out of the sky-high price Venbar might propose. But Poe was shocked by the response.

“Five thousand.”

 _So little? Man, I must look worse than I feel._ Poe was momentarily shocked. He could have easily paid that sum out of his personal account. He hadn’t realized how much the First Order oppression had affected the economies in the Western Reaches. He would pay that sum in a heartbeat, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. “Two thousand.”

Venbar pulled back slightly, and counter-offered. “Four thousand, five hundred.”

“Three.” Poe wanted the haggle to be convincing.

With a skeptical look, Venbar pointed a stubby finger at the pilot. “I will not go lower than four thousand.”

Poe shrugged and tried to look like he had lost the bargain. “Fine, four thousand it is.” He wanted to be sure there would be no misunderstanding. “To be paid once we arrive on Hosnian Prime.”

Venbar squinted at Poe for a long moment, then decided that the credits were the better deal. In florid terms, alternating between Basic and Abednedish, Venbar described the creatively violent means by which he would retaliate if Poe tried to back out of the deal. Once he had fully discharged his arsenal of threats, Venbar appeared satisfied, and led Poe back onto the airfield, nodding towards an aging Y-wing. “We will take that ship. We can leave in three hours, once it has had time to warm up.”

A pang of hunger twisted in Poe’s stomach, and he decided to push his luck. “Hey, any chance I can borrow ten credits to go buy some food? I haven’t eaten in—” Poe realized he didn’t know how long it had been. “—a while.” At Venbar’s critical expression, he continued, keeping his tone jocular. “Look, you already told me what awful things you’d do to me—in **great** detail—if I don’t come through with the four thousand. You think I’m going to run off with your ten?”

Venbar considered this for a moment, then made a noise of agreement. Carefully, he counted out an assortment of metallic pieces and dropped them into Poe’s cupped hand. “The only place with food for sale is the supply store.” He pointed into the distance, to the largest building in the village, then turned his attention back to the Y-wing.

Poe heard the thin whine as the cold electronics were switched on and the ventilation system began clicking and whirring through a series of routine checks. He began trudging slowly back to the center of town in search of food.


	5. That is enough

Poe tried to keep a low profile as he skirted the dwellings in the village. In truth, he had a dual purpose in going back to town. As hungry as he was, his first priority was finding an astromech droid. He spotted a few protocol droids shuffling around, but they wouldn’t do—they were always too chatty. Astromechs were safer.

He had nearly given up hope when he finally spotted one outside a hut at the far edge of town. He assessed the droid as he approached. It was an ancient R1 unit, pale grey, with its serial number long eroded. The exterior had seen years of abuse, some at the hands of opposing starfighters, the rest under the brutal sun on Jakku. The droid looked—wrong, somehow, and until Poe was closer, he didn’t realize why. Normally, the R1 units were taller than him by a good few inches, but this unit’s antenna barely reached his shoulder. It looked like, at some point, the R1’s unipod had been badly damaged. Rather than repairing it or scrapping it, someone had done a poor job welding the droid onto a stationary base. A voice synthesizer had been crudely wired to the dome, and a metal sign propped in front of the droid read ‘Fortunes Told: ½ credit.” It was a pitiful sight. Poe wondered who had stranded the poor droid there.

Poe approached the droid. “Hi there. I’m hoping you might be able to give me some information.”

The R1 unit awoke with a humming noise, and spoke through the synthesizer, the mechanical voice thin and nasal. “I will tell your fortune for half a credit.” With a creak, a panel on the front of the droid opened and a small arm extended, grasping for a coin.

“I don’t need my fortune told, I’m looking for information. And you don’t need to use the synth, I understand Binary.” Poe was hoping the latter detail might put the droid at ease.

The droid began rotating its dome to align its photoreceptor with Poe. But something was hindering its movement, and the dome juddered and clacked, unable to rotate more than twenty degrees from its starting position. The R1 unit let out a buzz of frustration. Poe moved to a position in front of the droid’s receptor, kneeling so he could gaze directly into the eyepiece. He watched as the droid squinted at him, painstakingly focusing the mechanisms in the lens apparatus housed behind the pitted and dusty glass of the eyepiece. Poe waited patiently.

Finally, the droid let out a series of sharp beeps. <You do not have the typical appearance of an organism that can comprehend Binary.>

“Looks can be deceiving.” Poe didn’t move from his position.

<What do you want?>

“I’m looking for information on a droid.” Poe knew that, on a planet the size of Jakku, astromechs in different outposts could transmit information to one another. He hoped that this lonely unit might have heard something about BB-8.

<There are many droids on this planet.>

“He’s an astromech droid. Newer model, a BB unit.”

<Do you own him?>

“We flew together. But we got separated. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

The R1 paused briefly, processing the human’s statements. He had heard much about this BB unit from his contacts at the Niima outpost. The man crouched in front of him was not First Order. They were not that clever, to send someone like him—their officers were poor actors—but he could be a bounty hunter. He chose his misstatement carefully. <That BB unit caused a large commotion. Two scavengers both claimed him and started fighting over him. In all the confusion, the BB unit was disintegrated.> The R1 droid calculated that if the human were a bounty hunter, he would be satisfied with the answer, and leave. If not, if his words were factual, he might ask more questions. The droid did not predict the human’s actual response.

It took Poe a moment to process what the R1 unit had said. _Disintegrated?_ His thoughts flashed back to the thousands of flights with his loyal little droid, celebrating narrow escapes, sharing stories and jokes afterwards. Now he had lost BB-8 too, on top of Finn, Tekka, and all the villagers in Tuanul—so many deaths. _And all my fault._ The mission had failed. All hope for finding Luke Skywalker was lost. Poe sank slowly back into the sand and tried to take a deep, steadying breath, but all he could manage was a pained gasp. He closed his tear-filled eyes and pictured BB-8, head cocked to one side, his inquisitive gesture now accusatory as Poe silently accepted his failure. _What’s the use in going on?_ Head in his hands, Poe sobbed brokenly into the sand as the enormity of his loss overwhelmed him.

The droid was startled by the human’s reaction of extreme sorrow. He had never met anyone so attached to their droid. The R1 spoke rapidly. <Hey. **Hey!** Listen to me, crying human! > When this elicited no response, he opened a panel, and extended a long-disused probe, delivering a small electric shock, which finally managed to capture the human’s attention. The man looked up at him, red-eyed and incredulous. <I initially relayed misinformation. I needed to be sure you were not from the First Order. Your friend, the BB unit, is likely safe.>

Poe rubbed the sore spot on his leg where the droid had zapped him. He didn’t know what to think. “Wh—what? How?” He shook his head in confusion.

<The other astromechs at Niima told me that a BB unit arrived at the outpost and then escaped on a stolen starship earlier today.> All news eventually traveled on Jakku, but exciting news traveled fast between droids.

“BB-8 stole…a starship?” Poe’s eyebrows shot up with skepticism. BB-8 was resourceful, for sure, but he didn’t have thumbs. That made piloting a ship a little difficult.

<He was in the company of two humans. A local scavenger female and an off-worlder male. Together they stole an old Corellian freighter.> The droid paused, retrieving additional details of the narrative. <They shot down two TIE fighters before departing, if my colleagues at Niima are to be believed.>

Relief flooded through Poe, and he lurched forward, throwing his arms around the R1 unit, laughing as he hugged the old droid. He knew he must look ridiculous, but he didn’t care who saw him. _There’s still hope. BB-8 is safely off the planet, and the mission might still be salvaged._ Poe knew he had to get back to the Resistance as fast as he could. He stepped back from the R1 unit, and smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you—that’s great news! I’ve got to find BB-8 as soon as I can. I’ve arranged for transport off the planet with someone in town named Venbar, but if for some reason that deal falls through, do you know any other pilots near here that are safe to talk to?”

<There is another small outpost a half-day’s walk from here. Too small for the First Order to notice. It is straight ahead towards—> The droid once again tried to twist his dome to point out the direction, but again hit the limit of rotation, twitched, and stopped with a crunching sound. <—towards the sunset. A pleasant view, if I remember correctly.>

Poe stared thoughtfully at the R1 unit, then wordlessly stood up and jogged off in the direction of the largest nearby building.

The R1 watched him for as long as he could resolve his shape, then considered the strange encounter. He did not predict that the man would return, carrying a couple of small tools and a tube of clear gel. <What is that?>

“Well, I thought I would try to reset your dome rotation mechanism. Do you mind if I give it a shot?” Poe had not wanted to say anything before seeing if he could afford the necessary equipment at the supply store. He had managed to talk the price down from an extortionate thirty credits to a more reasonable five. Once the droid beeped its assent, Poe knelt down to work. Gently, Poe released the spring mechanism from the dome brake, then used a narrow cleaning probe to remove years of accumulated grit. He emptied the tube of gel into the gears, spreading the material evenly throughout. Once he was satisfied, he sat back and looked up at the droid. “Go ahead, give it a twirl—but be careful, I didn’t reset the braking apparatus.”

Tentatively, the R1 initiated a slow rotation, and as his dome completed a full 360-degree turn, he let out a string of excited beeps. <You were successful! I have not been able to turn around in—> The droid paused, calculating. <—decades!>

Poe smiled sadly at the droid. “Hey, it’s the least I could do. I could reset the brake if you want, but that’s what was locked up. As long as you don’t go overboard, friction should stop you just fine—it’ll just take a bit of practice to aim where you want.”

<I am eager to complete the calculations and testing. In the meantime, I will just move—> The droid meticulously rotated his dome by half-centimeters until its eyepiece was aligned with the sunset. <—very slowly. Thank you for your assistance.>

“I’m sorry I can’t do more. I wish I could take you with me, go for a few runs in an X-wing—I’m sure you’d love to see all the stars again.” Poe hated the thought of the old, battle-scarred droid living indefinitely on the barren planet, with only its degrading memories of adventure for company. 

<I do not need **all** the stars. You have given me back one. > The droid’s photoreceptor was fixed upon the orange sphere sinking below the horizon. <That is enough.>

Poe’s voice caught in his throat. Before he could think of what to say, a grizzled Kyuzo came out of the nearest hut, brandishing a stick and shouting in broken Basic.

“Must pay for fortunes from droid! One half credit!” The Kyuzo struck the metal sign for emphasis.

Poe’s tone was conciliatory. “I’m sorry, I was so excited by the fortune that I completely forgot to pay! And it was such a good telling, that it was worth **five** credits.” Poe dropped his remaining coins into the hands of the astounded Kyuzo. “That’s a great fortune-telling droid you’ve got there, be sure to keep him in good order.” Poe winked at the R1 unit, who blinked his shutter back at him. Poe began walking swiftly back towards Venbar’s airfield, stopping only once to glance back at the R1 unit, distant on the horizon. The Kyuzo still fussing over the old droid, but the R1 unit was paying no attention to him. Poe could still see the glint of orange light reflected in the droid’s eye as it contentedly watched the sun set.


	6. Shower first

True to his word, the Y-wing was ready to depart within three hours. The journey to Hosnian Prime was uneventful and short. Venbar was a competent pilot, and the route he selected was direct. Poe was glad that they didn’t encounter any First Order spacecraft, since they had taken no measures to avoid them.

As they entered the atmosphere of Hosnian Prime and were directed to a landing bay, Poe wrote a message for Sana, hoping that she was still at the same address. ‘Hey, Sana! It’s Temmin. Can’t believe it’s been five years! Still have the same three crazy roommates? In town for a short vacation. Let’s meet by the Bay.” Even encoded, he didn’t want to include his real name. The First Order would undoubtedly have spies on the planet.

Venbar looked over at his passenger as they landed. “Remember what I said if the money is not here.”

“I know, Venbar. Don’t worry, it’ll be here.” _I hope._ Poe scanned the docking bay for his friend, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar Twi-lek approach the Y-wing, carrying a plain canvas bag.

“Poe Dameron, you look like hell.” Sana’s voice was low as she handed the bag over to Poe. “Five, right?”

Poe nodded at Sana. “One minute.” He stepped back onto the ship and tossed the bag to Venbar. “Wanna count it?” He didn’t need to ask—the Abednedo had already opened the bag to inspect the contents.

Venbar looked up at Poe, questioning. “Five thousand. This is more than we agreed upon.” He didn’t understand the human’s generosity.

“Consider it a retainer. A down payment, in case any of my friends ever need a ride off Jakku in the future.” Venbar nodded slowly as he furtively stashed the bag in a storage locker. “There’s a refueling station in bay six, if you need it. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” With an exaggerated bow, Poe backed off the ship and rejoined Sana.

The two walked in silence until they reached her quarters. Once inside, questions exploded out of Sana, as Poe leaned wearily against the closed door. “Poe, what is going on? First there’s talk that there’s a map to **Luke Skywalker** , then the First Order is unveiling some massive superweapon, and then I hear that you were lost in a mission on some desert planet, but now here you are, costing me money?” The Twi-lek was agitated, pacing the small room. “And I think I could smell you as you entered the atmosphere. What **happened** to you?”

Poe began talking the moment the Twi-lek paused for breath. “Sana, I have not had the best week, and I am dying for a shower and some food, but we need to get going. I have to get back to D’Qar.” He could read the concern in her face, and tried for a note of levity. “Don’t worry—the Resistance may have hit some hard times lately, but I think they’re still good for five thousand or so.” He smiled weakly.

Sana quickly closed the space between them and wrapped her old friend in a crushing hug. “You know I don’t care about the money, you idiot.” She felt Poe wince at the force of her embrace and tried not to think about what that meant. Stepping back, she held Poe at arms’ length for a moment, making a small sound of disapproval at his appearance. “You **do** need to take a shower before I let you step onto my ship, that’s for sure. Go, clean yourself up while I figure out a route.” Sana grabbed a holopad off her desk and began to rapidly type in a series of numbers. “You sure you can’t at least wait a day or two?”

“No time. I have to get back.” Poe gingerly stripped off his ragged clothes, gesturing to the tattered heap of cloth as he spoke.  “Do you have anything I can borrow? I think these are beyond the point of laundering.”

“Ugh, yes. Just leave them there. I’ll find something for you.” Sana looked up from her calculations and gasped. Poe’s body, normally lean and muscular, was gaunt and covered with innumerable bruises, burns, and blood-caked wounds. “Poe, seriously, **what happened**?”

“The First Order happened,” Poe said grimly. “I’ll fill you in later. Shower first.”

In the bathroom, Poe stood, unmoving, as the shower slowly washed away the accumulation of grime, sweat, and blood. The water stung, at first, but the points of pain eventually became numb under the relentless spray. The floral soap wasn’t Poe’s favorite, but it was a pleasant change from the last several days. He stepped out of the shower, briefly considered shaving, and then decided that the stubble helped to mask his scrapes and bruises. Outside the bathroom door was a pair of loose, drawstring pants and a tunic shirt. Gratefully, Poe slipped into the clean clothes and wandered, barefoot, through Sana’s quarters. He found the Twi-lek leaning against the dining table, with a large bowl of steaming soup next to her. Poe sat down and started eating, famished. Between mouthfuls, he spoke. “When do we leave?”

Sana looked at him sharply. “Half an hour. Ship’s already warming up. And don’t even **think** about trying to convince me that you’re fit to pilot.”

Poe raised his hands wearily in a gesture of surrender. “Believe me, I will happily take a nap. Plus, that way, you can’t get mad at me for critiquing your route.” Sana silently watched Poe eat, refilling his bowl once he finished the first.

“Poe Dameron, you are lucky I was even here. I was slated to leave in three days to run a recon mission in the outer reaches.” Her brows furrowed in concern.

Poe smiled tiredly up at his friend and hooked Sana’s pinky with his own, giving her hand a squeeze. “I am lucky, I know it.” Poe knew she meant well, but he couldn’t stand the look of pity in his friend’s eyes. He couldn’t allow himself the luxury of empathy, the abyss of a comforting embrace—not when he was using every ounce of energy to maintain his usual veneer of bravado. He looked back at his empty bowl and spoke, knowing that his words would deflect her compassion. “Though if you weren’t here, I’d just call up Bob.”

Sana pushed Poe’s hand away and swatted his shoulder. “Bob? He is a terrible pilot. He would fly you into a sun on the way to D’Qar.”

“Plus, he’s not nearly as pretty as you.” Poe laughed and turned to shield himself as Sana lobbed a pair of clean socks at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I used "Bob" as a placeholder name and it just stuck, because every time I thought about a character named "Bob" in the Star Wars universe it made me giggle.
> 
> Poor Bob.


	7. You'll be okay

Sana only registered herself on the ship leaving Hosnian Prime. Her stowaway was not noticed. Once the flight coordinates were set, she quietly walked back to the small cabin on the modified U-wing to check on her sleeping passenger. True to form, he had tried to insist on helping during takeoff, but Sana had firmly led him to the cabin, pushed him into the narrow bunk, and refused to leave until he closed his eyes. Assured that her friend’s sleep was not troubled, Sana settled back down into the pilot’s chair and called up a mystery novel on her holopad.

Poe awoke, disoriented, heart racing. He stared at the walls of the bunk for a moment before remembering the details of his escape from the Finalizer, and then from Jakku. He was on Sana’s ship. He was safe.

He sat up gingerly, his muscles sore. “Sana? Where are we? How long have I been asleep?”

Sana poked her head out of the cockpit and smiled at Poe. “We are roughly near Geonosis. You’ve been asleep for about nine hours. I felt it necessary to check on you a few times to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Nine hours? We **are** in a ship with a hyperdrive, right? How are we not there yet?” Poe was trying to calculate the date in his head.

“I presumed you didn’t want us to bring the First Order with us. You know how the General hates uninvited guests. I lost the last of them around Bothawui, but you can’t be too careful. No shaving parsecs off this trip.”

Poe nodded and stumbled groggily to the bathroom. Returning to the cockpit, he glanced at the navigation screen and made a small sound of grudging approval after reviewing Sana’s route. He sank into the copilot’s seat and gazed at the view of the stars streaking past. Sana tossed him a protein bar, which he devoured gratefully.

Sana tried to draw Poe into conversation, yet nothing could elicit a response of more than a word or two from her friend. The quiet of the cockpit seemed interminable, and Sana couldn’t help glancing worriedly at Poe. “Do you want to talk about—?”

“No.” The response was more abrupt than Poe had intended. He forced himself to look at Sana, but couldn’t find the words to explain. “Sorry. Not yet.” Right now, he knew it would hurt to talk about it, to face everything so soon. So, for now, he wouldn’t think about it.

Sana kept her voice cheerful. “You know my motto, talking’s overrated anyway.” She glanced at the navigation panel. “Still almost an hour before we reach D’Qar. We could always…” Sana gave Poe a sly glance and gently caressed his cheek with a finger. She knew **that** had always been one surefire way to distract her friend from his troubles.

As Sana reached out, Poe’s memory flashed back to the interrogation chamber: Kylo Ren’s reaching hand—his piercing mind. Pain. Fear. Violation. He flinched involuntarily at her touch. “I, uh…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain some of his lost composure, hating how much his voice trembled. “I d—I don’t think…”

“Hey.” Sana jumped up from her seat and folded her friend in a hug. _Those fucking monsters. What did they do to you?_ She kept those thoughts to herself and tried to speak encouragingly. “It’ll be okay. Despite their best efforts, we’re still here, and we’ll keep fighting, eh?” Sana smiled slightly as she felt the tension slowly dissipating from Poe’s shoulders as he relaxed into her embrace. “You’ll be okay,” she murmured, and softly kissed the top of his head. “You’ll be okay.” After a few moments, Sana heard Poe mumble something into her shoulder. She leaned back to better hear her friend. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said that I’d probably soaked enough snot into your shirt,” Poe couldn’t help but grin at Sana’s involuntary reaction of barely concealed disgust. “And that you should distract me for the rest of the trip by telling me what you’ve been up to since I last saw you. It’s been almost a year now, hasn’t it?”

Sana was happy to oblige, filling the time by recounting her latest adventures, focusing on the happier tales, fudging a detail here or there to keep her stories as light as possible. By the time they were ready to drop out of hyperspace, she had managed to draw a few genuine laughs from her friend.

Sana made a few last adjustments to her control panel as they prepared themselves for landing. “Ready for your hero’s parade, Commander Dameron?” she asked amicably.

Poe chuckled along with her, though the true answer to her question was a deafening chorus in his mind, a single syllable repeating uncontrollably, echoing in rising crescendo to drown out the roar of the ship’s engines— _NO!_


	8. Cleared for service

Poe sought refuge in the routine tasks of landing. _Monitor altitude, mentally calculate rate of deceleration, sweep the radar for errant vessels or incoming fighters, check the fuel gauge out of habit..._ As the ship settled with a gentle bump onto the surface of D’Qar, Poe felt more grounded, deliberately forcing a casual grin to mask the brittle confidence in his eyes.

The hull door opened with a hiss of hydraulics and Poe stood, clasping Sana’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime.” Sana nodded towards the large doors heading down into the Resistance base. “Good luck with that.”

Walking down the gangplank, Poe was met by a nervous-looking young medic who took his arm and began pulling him towards the passages leading deep into the base, squeaking out something about Dr. Kalonia and a complete physical evaluation. Poe tried to pull away, secretly glad that the medic quailed at his stern look. “I need to speak with the General.” In truth, Poe was dreading the conversation. _What am I going to say when she asks what happened? How am I going to tell her what he did—_ ” His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Kalonia as they met in the entryway to the infirmary.

Unlike the medic, Dr. Kalonia was not swayed by Poe’s protestations. “Once we’ve had a look at you, Leia will see you.” Poe knew better than to argue with the doctor and sat down to let the medical droids begin their scans, though he couldn’t help fidgeting impatiently. Kalonia glanced up from the biometrics readings to cock an eyebrow at Poe and muttered wryly, “Willing the scans to run faster doesn’t actually work, you know.”

Poe pushed himself back in the chair with an exaggerated sigh. He shot an imploring look at the ancient 2-1B unit scanning his right arm, but the droid merely shrugged and continued assessing the pilot. To Poe’s dismay, the doctor gestured to a small group of trainees who had been lurking at the far edge of the sickbay. They gathered close to the doctor, peering at her holopad screen as she started to explain the findings from his scans.

“See these? The basics of First Order torture methods don’t change.” The doctor’s voice was as dispassionate as if she giving an introductory lecture. A few of the braver medics squinted at Poe, trying to discern the physical manifestations of his abuses as Dr. Kalonia highlighted specific details. “Functionally, no different than Imperial methods, with the hallmarks being—”

“Doc!” Poe nearly laughed as the trainees leapt at his outburst, but Kalonia merely leveled her placid gaze back at him. “What, did they pull out my spleen or something? What’s the verdict, am I fighting fit?”

“Short-term malnourishment, minor exposure, numerous contusions and burns, no skeletal damage. No **apparent** cognitive dysfunction.” The doctor made a show of slowly scrolling through Poe’s chart. “Spleen…intact.” At the bottom of the document, she made a few additional notes, then signed her name. “Cleared for service, though I’d recommend you take a few days—”

“Thanks doc.” The pilot was already halfway down the hallway as the last of Kalonia’s statement echoed back at him.

“—to rest.”


	9. Glittering fragments

Poe took the long way to the General’s offices, both to avoid the crowded main corridors and to give himself more time to decide how to approach the impending debriefing. As he reached her door he hesitated, hand hovering over the control panel. _I’ll just tell her…_ Poe considered his options. _Tell her that the Stormtroopers got it out of me. Leave him out of it. No need to—_ Poe was startled from his thoughts by the raucous sound of laughter. At the far end of the hallway, he spotted several members of Blue Squadron heading in his direction. Before they could recognize him, he slammed his hand on the door control and stepped into the quiet warmth to face the General.

“General Organa.” Poe stood at attention and rushed to continue before his resolve failed him. “By now I’m sure you know the main facts of my capture and interrogation by the First Order. During my time aboard the Finalizer, Stormtrooper interrogation tactics were applied, causing me to reveal—” His voice trailed off as Leia lifted her eyes to meet his.

In an instant, Poe could see that she already knew. _How could she not?_ Poe was ashamed of his own stupidity, thinking he would be able to protect her by withholding information. _Every day she lives with the reality of what Ben Solo has become. There is no escaping it for her._ He hung his head, deflated. “General, I—”

Leia stood from her desk and moved to a pair of comfortable chairs tucked in one corner of her office. She looked at Poe, nodding towards the seat beside hers. “Poe, sit down.”

Poe sat awkwardly, staring at his scuffed boots. “How do we have this conversation?” he asked quietly, shaking his head. _How do you have this conversation with any of the victims of Kylo Ren’s violence? How do you deal with the people who lie to you out of kindness? Even worse, how do you face the people who blame you for what he is now?_ He couldn’t bear to meet her gaze.

“You tell me what happened. What **really** happened.” Leia’s steady voice was reassuring. “And then we make a plan for what to do next.” She placed her strong hand over his and gave a comforting squeeze. “I know what he did in Tuanul. I can—” Leia’s voice faltered briefly. “I can imagine what he did to you, to get the information about BB-8.” She sighed. “I can’t hide from the fact that he’s done so many terrible things. And I am sorry that my son has done this to you.”

Poe’s head snapped up, eyes burning with the intensity of his insistence. “Leia, he is **not** your son anymore.” He paused briefly, fearing that he’d overstepped, but the General made no effort to interrupt him. “Whoever—whatever—turned him into Kylo Ren, any remaining traces of Ben were destroyed. When he…” Poe closed his eyes, remembering the interrogation chamber, grasping for the words to convey his experience. “There is a terrifying darkness in him. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Before Leia could reply, they were interrupted by a hurried, perfunctory knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and a harried-looking officer entered. Poe quickly turned away from the door, needing a moment to regain his composure.

“Major, could you return in—” Leia stood to address the woman.

“I’m sorry General, but this is top priority.” She handed over a holopad. “We’ve just gotten word of a First Order attack at Takodana. Kylo Ren’s ship has been identified amongst the First Order fleet.” Leia looked up from the holopad, eyebrows raised. The Major continued, “And the Millenium Falcon was spotted as well. Reports are patchy, but the missing BB unit may be on the planet.”

Poe leapt to his feet. “Permission to lead the Blue Squadron, General?” There was a chance that BB-8 was on that planet. It was time to save his friend and salvage his mission.

Leia looked skeptically at the pilot. “Are you fit to fly, Commander Dameron?”

“Dr. Kalonia cleared me for duty half an hour ago.” At Leia’s curt nod, Poe ran to the barracks to get himself into a flight suit.

Poe met the General exiting the darkened base into the blinding sunlight. As they walked, she filled him in on additional details of enemy numbers and their known positions on Takodana. They were nearing his ship when Leia stumbled and Poe reached out an arm to steady her. To his surprise, she sagged into him, as though suddenly unable to support herself. “General?” Poe tried to find a place for her to sit, shocked at how ashen she suddenly looked. “Leia? Leia!” It took him a moment to realize that all activity and chatter on the airfield had ceased. As though in slow motion, he looked up to see what had silenced the group.

The Hosnian system was burning. The planetary cluster had been shattered into glittering fragments. Poe stared, transfixed, as he witnessed the destruction of the New Republic. _What kind of weapon could do that?_ For a moment, nobody moved, unsure of what to do next. Poe looked back at the General, who was beginning to regain her color.

She pushed him weakly towards his X-wing. “Go,” she said hoarsely. “I’ll be fine. They need help at Takodana. Go!”

Poe nodded and radioed to his squadron. “Up in 3 minutes, everyone!” As his pilots checked in, Poe spotted a figure sitting motionless on the airfield, still staring at the sky. He jogged over and knelt in front of the Twi-Lek, hugging her close. “Sana, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“If it hadn’t been for you—” Neither one of them wanted to finish the thought.

“Or you.” Poe pulled back and looked at his friend. “You gonna be okay? I’m supposed to fly, but if—”

“Go.” Though tears were streaming down her cheeks, Sana’s voice was steely. “Go get them.” As Poe ran to his ship, she shouted at his retreating form, “And may the Force be with you!”

He was ready for them. The squadron made its drop out of hyperspace and slid into Takodana’s atmosphere in practiced formation. Poe snapped a switch, feeling the change in drag as the X-wing’s S-foils locked into attack position. With a smile, he called out some final words of encouragement to his team. “Go straight ahead at them! Don’t let these thugs scare you!” He accelerated rapidly, cleanly picking off the three closest TIE fighters. Cutting into an aileron roll, Poe nimbly dodged the oncoming wave and focused on the ground troops, then doubled back to catch several TIE fighters from behind. He let out a whoop of satisfaction as his shots struck true, clearing a safe path for the Resistance fighters on the ground. He missed having BB-8 there with him, but if the reports were true, they’d soon be reunited. Poe grinned at the thought and set his sights on the last few TIE fighters remaining in the air. _Time to have some fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the "last chapter" ended up turning into _two_ last chapters... such is the way of things.
> 
> This piece was a fun one for me! Thank you so much for reading it; I hope you enjoyed it even half as much as I liked writing it! All comments/feedback welcome. I love discussions! (And sorry for anyone who was hoping for more romance... read my StormPilot Suite for a bit more along those lines, and hopefully I'll get my behind in gear soon for the next story in the StormPilot series, set during TLJ!)
> 
> (I'll be babbling on a bit below regarding my thoughts while I was writing this piece, so feel free to bail out now. You've been warned!)
> 
> Poe's last spoken quotation in this chapter is taken directly from film dialogue. If you've read my StormPilot Suite, you'll know I like to anchor my work firmly within the confines of the existing canon :)
> 
> In fact, that's why I posted the first 7/9ths of this story in a comparative rush, as a bit of a challenge to myself to finish as much as possible before the publication of the official comic I mentioned in the Chapter 1 notes. Of course, I had been _completely_ oblivious to the fact that there's been an official novelization for, what? Two years? And, naturally, there's some logical resolution to Poe's stranding on Jakku in the novelization (I presume—I haven't read it). Anyway, so much for best-laid plans!
> 
> I started writing this primarily as a piece for myself, just to satisfactorily fill in the question of how Poe escaped Jakku. I love playing in Poe's mind; I find his character endlessly fascinating. I particularly enjoy trying to make the Poe on screen fit in with the version I try to flesh out in greater detail. More than anything, I want the thoughts, feelings, and motivations expressed by the people in these stories to mesh seamlessly with the characters we see on screen, adding depth without changing the fundamentals.
> 
> I'd had several conversations with friends speculating on how Poe had managed to escape, many of which ended with sly winking and suggestions of "making friends" as a way to negotiate passage off the planet. However, I started writing this after finishing my StormPilot Suite, in which I spent a bit of time exploring what had happened to Poe during his interrogation/torture at the hands of the First Order. In my mind, that experience wasn't something he could forget easily (at least, not as easily as he appeared to on screen). Thus when it came time to write this piece, the idea of a "sexy getaway" simply didn't click with the version of Poe that was clanging around in my mind. (Not to say that there isn't some truly excellent fiction in which Poe battles his inner and outer demons by engaging in all sorts of therapeutic sexytimes!) In fact, in an earlier version of Chapter 7, Poe and Sana kill some of the flight time to D'Qar in bed. Yet, reading back through that version, something continued to rankle, so I ended up reworking it to its current version.
> 
> (Side note: this character speculation of mine is _entirely_ separate in my mind from the delightful Oscar Isaac, who would have convincing chemistry with a boiled potato, and who, I'm sure, could easily charm his way off any alien planet.)
> 
> One of my favorite parts to write was Poe's interaction with the R1 unit in Chapter 4. It was supposed to be a short exchange of information, but then it kind of exploded. It was great to contemplate how a droid would "think," how programming would affect the level of "humanity" the droid could display, and also how to best convey Binary dialogue. I'm intrigued by the idea that droids are gendered in the Star Wars universe - who chooses the gender, the droid, or its master? In their interactions, I had the droid refer to itself as a "he," whereas Poe referred to the droid as an "it." Not sure whether that speaks to Poe's biases or simply that he didn't think to ask whether the droid was male or female.
> 
> Another area I loved exploring was the relationship between Poe and Leia. She has an obvious affection for him (particularly so in TLJ) that borders on the maternal. I've only scratched the surface of them both figuring out how to deal with the knowledge that her son has committed these terrible acts, and how that would affect their relationship. 
> 
> Well, it's 3am, and I've prattled on far more than I should. Thanks again for reading! Let me know your thoughts! And may the Force be with you!


End file.
